Anger Issues
by BonsaiTree
Summary: Wolf has been having a terrible morning...and now he's been called in by a certain irritating organization. On top of that, he gets a taste of MI6's enigma of an agent.  Oh, dear. All so early in the morning, too.


Disclaimer: Scorpia Rising is here! YUS! And it's not written by me, just like the other eight books.

Warnings: language and general...stupidity?

_**Anger Issues**_

It was a very crappy morning for the man code-named Wolf. He was awoken far earlier than he'd wanted by some random kid throwing a ball at his window. Who the hell plays ball at seven in the morning? On a Saturday!

Wolf gained some satisfaction when the kid practically flew back into his house after he was treated to the scariest death-glare he'd ever experienced.

Unable to get back to sleep, Wolf lumbered downstairs for his daily dose of caffeine. And lo and behold, the damn espresso machine was malfunctioning. He glared at it for almost a full minute when the phone had the nerve to interrupt him in his ritual. He turned his infamous glare, complete with blood-shot eyes, unto the ringing phone – if the poor thing had been alive, it would have melted in terror.

"Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end, as if sensing the less-than-happy mood of the receiver.

"Uh, yes. Um, is there, um, is mister –"

"No, he's not!" _Slam!_

Cue annoying dial tone.

Wolf turned away from the phone and back towards his espresso machine again, determined to get his coffee.

And the phone. Rang. Again.

"_What?_"

"Well, someone's in a good mood, I see," came the dulcet tones of one Benjamin Daniels. Wolf could _hear_ the smirk in the younger man's voice. It didn't do much to soothe his temper.

"Ben. What do you want? It's early." His reply was short and disjointed.

"Actually, I'm on office duty. On behalf of my company, I have to inform you of your appointment later this morning. You are to be at the Royal and General Bank on Liverpool Street at 9:30 to discuss certain matters with deputy head Mrs. Jones. Ask the reception and they'll send you up."

What. The. Hell.

"What the fuck? Why didn't anyone tell me? Preferably with a _few days warning?" _Wolf's face was beginning to turn red.

He heard Ben sigh on the other end.

"Jeez, man, it's not like you have anything important to do. It's Saturday. Besides, you know who I work for; you can't really push them aside."

"What's so important that I have to go _today_?"

"I'unno, I'm just the messenger. You'll know when you get there. Oh, and I almost forgot. You need a code," Ben spewed out a long string of letters and numbers, "to get in."

Silence.

"Repeat."

Ben dared not disobey.

* * *

><p>Wolf wasn't sure what to expect when he first stepped into the SIS Covert Action building, but it certainly wasn't for it to look so plain and normal. It was indistinguishable from an ordinary bank, though there was virtually no one in there, apart from the employees. It had ATMs and everything.<p>

Then, upon reflection, it wasn't strange at all; it _was_ the headquarters for an intelligence agency. Spies and secrecy and all that crap. Wolf made his way over to the reception desk and stood there, awkwardly, not sure what to do when the reception lady didn't look up. She seemed to be captivated by whatever was displayed on the computer screen in front of her. Seconds snailed by and Wolf quickly became very irritated.

He cleared his throat very loudly, not bothering to be polite. He even threw in a pointed glare once the aggravating woman finally looked up.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I'm here for an appointment with Mrs. Jones."

"I'm sorry; there isn't a Mrs. Jones here. Perhaps you're looking for Mrs. Rogers, or…?"

_What the hell?_ Crap, did he copy down the address wrong? Of course he didn't. Wait, no, Ben said something about this…

"Hold on," Wolf grunted as he reached into his pocket and fished out a little slip of paper. Squinting, he read out the sequence of letters and numbers that was on it.

"Just a minute please."

The soldier growled impatiently. The lady paid him no attention and looked back at her computer screen and typed another long sequence of characters with a speed that could only come from much practice. Another minute passed in which the lady asked Wolf for ID and seemingly random questions that gnawed on his nerves. Just when he'd decided that a little yelling wouldn't do any harm, the woman glanced back at him lazily.

"Please head straight down that hall, turn left and take the second elevator. Then, look for room 917. Should be on the left. Have a nice day." she informed him at last in that oh-so-annoying voice of hers. Wolf nodded stiffly and turned away without another word.

He found the elevators, no problem, and the metallic elevator door slid open with a _ding!_ as soon as Wolf pressed the up button, and it closed again Wolf stepped in. He hardly had time to look for the correct button to send him to his designated floor when the elevator began moving. Okay, apparently everything was pre-set in this place.

Everything was also exactly as it was supposed to be and Wolf found room 917 in barely thirty seconds. However, the name on the door didn't say "Jones", but rather "J. Crawley". Wolf had to resist the urge to punch something. Why was everything so damn complicated in this place?

Forcing himself to calm down – he only partially succeeded – the twenty-nine year old knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a reply.

The office was average sized, a neatly organized (boring) desk stood in front of the window, and two tasteless paintings hung on the wall. They were clearly more for filling space than actually making the room look prettier. The room was, overall, very dull.

An even duller looking person sat behind the desk, and he barely twitched as Wolf trampled into his office.

"Mr. Martinez." The man, presumably Crawley, greeted. "Mrs. Jones will be with us shortly; she has some…delicate matters to tend to." In contrast to his stoic face, Crawley seemed to be holding back a smirk, for some reason. This only served to infuriate Wolf more.

They waited in silence.

…Goddammit! What was with all the waiting? Muststaycalmmuststaycalm…

Wolf was seriously considering just leaving, or perhaps magically producing a gun and murdering someone, when the office door opened.

A thin woman with short black hair walked in holding a folder in her arms. She looked just as nondescript as Crawley. She even greeted him in the exact same tone…maybe they really were trying to piss him off on purpose.

"Ma'am," Crawley greeted as he made to leave.

"John." Jones returned his nod and waited for the door to close with a click before turning to address Wolf.

"We are aware that you are on leave right now, but we thought it best to inform you ahead of time about a special mission that you're being assigned to. MI6 is going to borrowing you from the SAS for this partnered mission that you will be carrying out with one of our high ranking special operators. He should be arriving shortly, so we'll – " _Oh, don't you say it!_ " – wait until he gets here before going into details."

"Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE, why don't you tell that agent TO GET HIS ASS UP HERE _RIGHT NOW_–!" Oh, right. He was talking to the deputy head of MI6 SO.

Jones continued as though there had been no interruption, though Wolf thought he saw amusement in her eyes – _why was she bloody laughing at him? Bitch._ She wasn't even pretty enough to get away with it! Not that…well.

"I _can_ tell you, however, that we have become aware that you have been…restless, lately, and your performance has been affected. We're hoping that spending time with this agent of ours will help regulate this behaviour."

Oh, so now they thought he was acting off? Just how much control did these people have? _Stupid._ '_You've been restless.'_ What bullshit. He was perfectly fine! Who were the "we" Jones kept referring to anyways?

Two minutes passed.

Seven.

By fifteen, even Mrs. Jones was frowning. Wolf had long since run out of insults to scream in his head, and was now trying to empty his mind. It wasn't really working.

_If this stupid ass agent takes another se– _

_ BANG! _

Right on cue, the door flew open violently and Wolf turned his head so fast he heard his neck crack. His muttered curses trailed off when a youthful blond man strode serenely into the office, as if he didn't just almost bust the door. No, really, what the HELL was with all the crazy-as-shite people in this god-forsaken place!

"Alex –"

"Why hello there, Mrs. Jones." The man's eerie smile enhanced his chiselled, handsome features. It was quite angelic, Wolf thought dazedly. _Wait, what?_ "It's been such a long time!"

"Yes, well –"

"But not long enough. I thought we had an agreement? Do I need to demonstrate again the consequences of not following through?" Was that a glint of sharp steel Wolf saw?

"Ah…no. That is quite alright, Alex. And don't worry, this is just an information meeting; no assignments yet." The metallic glint disappeared; maybe Wolf had just imagined it.

"Great." That innocent smile did not waver once. The blond pulled up a chair and sank down into it, managing to look careless and elegant all at once. Wolf was on his way to becoming utterly confused. Maybe he'd been drugged somewhere along the way…

Mrs. Jones, satisfied that there would be no more objections, settled herself in Crawley's chair behind the desk.

"Let's get introductions out of the way first, shall we?"

Before, the blond had given absolutely no indication that he was aware of Wolf's presence, but now he turned to gaze at Wolf with apathetic, but sharp, brown eyes. Wolf met his stare, immediately gaining the sudden impulse to avert his own eyes. He forced himself not to look away.

Mrs. Jones gave a little cough. "Alex, this is Mr. Jake Martinez. You may remember him. He is called Wolf in the SAS."

There was no reaction.

"Mr. Martinez, this is Special Agent Alex Rider. He is going to be your partner in the assignment." As soon as this statement left Jones' mouth, "Rider" narrowed his eyes.

"I was under the impression that there were no assignments for me."

The deputy director took one look at the perfectly blank expression and hurried to explain, "We weren't planning to go back on our word, Alex; this is taking place after your leave."

"Alright. So, are you going to tell me the details, or what?"

By this point, Wolf's temper was rising again. Did he suddenly cease to exist or something?

"Yes, I would rather get going," he ground out.

"Of course," Mrs. Jones was unfazed. "Now, today is more of a chance to get reacquainted with each other; there will be a more detailed briefing closer to the assignment date.

"This is going to be a relatively simple and easy task for the two of you, experienced as you are. It involves uncovering an amateur criminal organization base that we believe is hidden somewhere in Indonesia. Most likely in the rainforest. This group is newly established and all you have to do is find them."

Who the hell builds crime bases in freakin' _rainforests_?

"We're taking this opportunity to see if you can benefit from this working experience. It will also be taken into account for…certain aspects of your psychological profile. "

Despite Jones' attempt at being discrete, Wolf knew exactly what she was referring to. And there was no way he was going to spend any unnecessary amounts of time in a damn rainforest. But before he could voice an objection, Rider cut in.

"Give me a moment, please." He pulled out his phone and hit a speed dial. Wolf glared at him. Hard. And this was the guy he was supposed to be working with, too. _Special agent, my ass!_ He barely looked old enough.

The other two occupants of the room didn't make a sound – Wolf, with immense difficulty – and they heard the tiny click on the other end of the line.

Rider took a deep breath.

"Blunt. _What the HELL was going through your mind when you assigned me to this shitty excuse for a mission? _Why the_ hell _do I need a fucking partner? Last time I checked, the SAS wasn't exactly known for their _subtlety._"

He hung up.

Wolf was amazed that Mrs. Jones didn't look more shocked. She did look a bit apprehensive, but not at all surprised.

Well, Wolf wasn't going to stand for this bullshit any longer. Nor was he going to be outdone by some brat.

"Okay, I don't know what the hell this is supposed to be, but I want some answers. You keep implying that we know each other. I don't know him; he's just a kid! Why the hell am I supposed to work with this whiny brat?" He took a breath. "And I'm supposed to be the one with problems? Why don't you deal with your own agent first, huh? How old is he anyways?"

Wolf nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a light hand on his shoulder. But it didn't end there. In a flash, he found himself kneeling facing the ground, his arm twisted painfully behind him. He heard the soft rustle of clothing and a smooth voice sounded right beside his ear.

"Nice to see you're the same as ever, Wolf. You knew me as Cub; ring any bells in that head of yours?"

Wolf froze.

"Trust me when I say I don't have any problems that you need to worry about. I'm sure our time together will be very entertaining." A light chuckle. "By the way, try not to be caught off guard by any more _kids_ like me, alrighty?"

By now, Wolf was mouthing soundlessly to the ground. The pressure on his arm let up very suddenly and painfully.

"Ah, and I will be the agent on point for this little assignment, yes Mrs. Jones? Oh good. I'm glad we're on the same page. Good day to you, Mrs. Jones, Mr. Martinez."

And Agent Alex Rider walked out the door.

The Eagle in Wolf's mind strolled past, whistling a merry little tune.

"You just got owned, dude."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So guys, what do you think? This is just something that came to mind while trying to rid myself of the damned writer's block. Please disregard the errors in factual...stuff and characterizations please; this was written purely on a whim. I wouldn't mind some pointers for future references, though!

And a note for anyone who is possibly waiting for the last chapter of **Inevitable**: I'm really sorry, I don't know how to end it... I'm not giving up though, so until a great idea (haha that's funny) hits me, well, you'll have to wait. Sorry. After, I'm just going to stick with short things... Can't write anything longer (unable to plan ahead and self-motivate).


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